
Class _IELS.3_5:2.7 

COPKHICHT Btposrr. 



SONNETS 

of 
HERBERT SCHOLFIELD 




NEW POETRY 

THE MADMAN 

By Kahlil Gibran 

COLORS OF LIFE 
By Max Eastman 

THE OTHER SIDE 
By Gilbert Frankau 

THE BELOVED STRANGER 
By Witter Bynner 

170 CHINESE POEMS 

Translated by Arthur Waley 

SONNETS OF HERBERT SCHOL- 
FIELD 



SONNETS 

of 
HERBERT SCHOLFIELD 




NEW YORK 

ALFRED • A • KNOPF 

MCMXIX 



COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY 
HERBERT SCHOLFIELD 



MA.y lb 1919 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATK8 OF AMERICA 



iCI.Ar)|5G8i 
'Vvo I 



The Author of these Sonnets lives among the 
Mountains — a place remote from many of the activ- 
ities permitted to those in full health, but very close 
to human thought made tumultuous by its constant 
occupation with the vital questions of existence. 

It is a community which has been fathered by the 
effort and spirit of a great personality, one who 
found life, if not health, in its isolation, and who 
left it the inheritance of his courage to strengthen 
those who through their weakness so often must other- 
wise have touched despair. Those who get well go 
away, those who do not go away, stay on helping to 
make it possible for others to go. It is to one of 
these I wish to pay my tribute. 

For nearly thirty years, Herbert Scholfield has 
spent much of his time fighting his own ever-present 
malady; his breakdown, following closely upon the 
termination of his High School education, left him 
incapacitated, with almost all of the experience life 
ordinarily offers youth, denied him. Limited re- 

[v] 



sources made occupation of some sort necessary, 
in spite of ill health. Two years of district school 
teaching in his Adirondack neighborhood, an attempt 
to increase his knowledge of manual work, by a course 
in Philadelphia, and another two years, "the happiest 
time of his life," spent in teaching many things at a 
Kentucky college, were all followed by irretrievable 
loss of strength, the discouragement of which can only 
be fully realized by those who have had to bear with a 
frail body. After each excursion, came always the 
return to the Adirondack community, with perhaps a 
little more knowledge, but so much less health. 

Many efforts, many adjustments, and then at last 
the opportunity to start an open-air workshop at the 
Sanitorium, where other people might come and find 
under his direction, occupation in many weary hours 
during their period of isolation. You who read this, 
perhaps yourself were one of those who worked, in 
spite of the sparkling sunshine, with icy hands, at the 
soapstone covered desk, which held a marvelous con- 
trivance beneath for heating its surface, and have 
a memory too, of the delicious few minutes allowed 
for stamping numb feet in the proximity of a small 
stove with the smell of hot glue in the air. He was 
always quick to recognize the more subtle needs of his 

[vi] 



pupils and had the ability to impart from his own 
long experience, patience, not only to make under 
difficulties things of use and beauty, but also the rare 
understanding of how to best re-create for those who 
had lost it, hope and vision. The gradual develop- 
ment of his ideals in his work and thought against the 
greatest possible odds, the increase of the shop's in- 
fluence and the position of respect and affection the 
author of it gained for himself, is an old story to 
those who know. 

But few knew of the conflicting elements at work 
within. He was timid and highly sensitive as to his 
own adventures in thought, and largely silent regard- 
ing the problems his reading and close contact with 
human tragedies brought to his mind. His eff^ort to 
reconstruct his earlier acceptance of certain questions, 
the influence of modem interpretation, and his remote- 
ness often from companionship sympathetic to his 
own thought, found relief in putting down from time 
to time his ideas in verse. This meant further elf ort, 
for the medium was strange and he mastered it only 
at the cost of the same conscientious time and 
strength with which all of his self-instruction was at- 
tended. The beauty of his surroundings and of all 
nature to which he was keenly alive, the gift of health 

[vii] 



and normal life which others enjoyed, and the vision 
which his own life and experience brought him, in 
spite of all it deprived him of, found their way into 
his verse, which developed as he developed. With- 
out bitterness he wrote of and longed for the joys in 
which he could never share, and this collection of 
sonnets as it stands to-day represents his growth as it 
lasted over a period of many years, where away from 
much of the stimulation which those of the outer world 
demand to help form their thought, he sought alone 
with tireless effort through days of illness and dis- 
couragement the light which he shares now with you 
who read his book. 
New York, February 1st, 1919. 



[viii] 



I 

What purpose have these lines, in order set, 

Like furrows o'er the field of every page. 

Where rhythmic tread and rhyme by fellow met 

Proclaim the labor of a poet's rage? 

What plowman dared presume within his scope 

O'er fiery Pegassus to draw the rein? 

What seed is sown? What harvest did he hope? 

And is that harvest worth the reaper's pain? 

A prophet, did he purpose to present 

Some message from the bush of flaming fire? 

Or was his eye upon the laurel bent. 

And to the poet's crown did he aspire? 

Such questionings must come to those who look 

Within the covers of this humble book. 



[3] 



II 

If he who may the prophet's mantle wear, 

Be he whose simple faith a child may know, — 

That forms of sense about us everywhere 

Do but the presence of a spirit show. 

And that with loving hearts and knowledge due 

We all the spirit's highest good should seek, — 

Then that a prophet labored here 't is true. 

And through this book a message he would speak. 

But if a prophet vision strange must see, 

And voices kept from other ears must hear. 

Then to the prophet's name no claim had he; 

Distinction such as this had brought him fear 

Lest he, entangled like the antlered hart, 

Be caught by Madness with his deadly dart. 



[4] 



Ill 

Or if a poet may be one who sings 

That his full heart find voice, which else had none; 

Who feels the same throb as the gnat that swings 

A-dancing o'er the water in the sun; 

And who delights when sweet sounds greet his ear, 

Like one who lingers o'er a well loved name. 

Then he who looks will find recorded here 

Dreams that to teeming mind of poet came. 

But if to write a thousand lines a day. 

Nor need return and harrow, o'er and o'er. 

Be mark of the true poet, — one should say, — 

Then he who wrought, no band of purple wore; 

For pain and labor was the price he paid 

For what before the reader here is laid. 



[5] 



IV 

But if such titles were to him denied, 

Like no rejected courtier would he be, 

With wounded pride and bitter heart to chide 

Fortune for his deserved obscurity. 

Who never sought the palace hall of fame 

Hath little care for titles such as these; 

Contented will he be with any name 

So long as some fond heart his song shall please. 

And yet Ambition did not pass him by 

Leaving unkindled in his breast her fire; 

Those who could read the flashing of his eye 

Could tell the secret of his heart's desire. 

It was that when at last his work should end, 

He should deserve from some the name of friend. 



[6] 



V 

For oft, when others did rejoice, he stood 

A silent witness of their joy, apart, 

Too thrilled by beauty of another's good, 

To utter forth the fullness of his heart: 

And oft, when others grieved, did he again 

With but a feeble word beside them stand ; 

Too much he felt the anguish of the pain. 

To bind the wound with his unskilful hand: 

And often he to others would have given 

Some seeming precious thought that to him came; 

Yet when to yield the jewel he had striven 

His treasure seemed but commonplace and tame. 

With some who most to give themselves would seek, 

How oft 't is hard the potent words to speak. 



[7] 



VI 

But as when all the summer wood is still 

The timid thrush doth utter forth a song 

That ringing to the valley from the hill 

Gives cheer to him who fares the way along, 

So in the quiet of his life he wrote 

These songs, Reader, that thou findest here; 

And happy would he be if any note 

Of any song of his should give thee cheer. 

Here wilt thou find, perchance, the gladsome strain 

With which thy day of joy he fain would greet; 

Or the lament with which he mourns thy pain 

And offers comfort for thy sorrow meet; 

Or here, again, some thought that in him dwells 

Unto the echoes of the wood he tells. 



[8] 



VII 



Such, then, was he who labored in this field, 

And sought therein the seed of love to sow: 

His wish for thee, thy broad domain should yield 

Rich harvest till thy garners overflow. 

And if with wheat of truth the evil tare 

Of error in this plot thou shouldest find, 

He prays that what is standing thou wilt spare 

Till at the reaping thou the tares shalt bind: 

And burned in fire those errors then shall be. 

Forgotten in their ashes, while the wheat 

May grace thy board when friends shall sit with thee 

And glad at heart a banquet ye shall eat. 

His labor o'er, his right he did resign : 

Put forth thy sickle, for the field is thine. 



[9] 



SONNETS 
PART I 



VIII 

If happy hearts I seek, then come, ye dreams 
Of lovers' bliss, of home, and parenthood; 
Such joyous love is like the sun, whose beams 
Call forth all life and fill the earth with good. 
Or if with grief I fain would sympathize, 
Then come, sad sisters of that gladsome band, 
With pallid, tear stained cheeks and woeful eyes, 
And with your tales of love beside me stand. 
That I may hear how joy can leave the sky 
And how the soul may wander all the night 
Through trackless lonely land with no friend nigh 
And perils to beset and fears to fright. 
Thus whether glad or sorrowful they prove, 
I summon dreams that bring me thoughts of love. 



[13] 



IX 

Unused, the ancient roads were overgrown; 

And many a thorny hedge and baffling wall 

Had Custom 'cross those former highways thrown, 

Lest into the old ditches one might fall. 

Blind was her prudence and to blame was she, 

And sharer of that blame Religion stood, — 

Remiss in duties once held chief to be, 

The opening of roads through the dark wood. 

That I found tangled paths, no wonder then ; 

Scarce knew I what to seek, of what beware, 

Save that some gave their bones to dragon's den, 

While others found a happy valley there. 

Yet guiding stars shone in the sky above, 

And brightest of those guiding stars was love. 



[14] 



X 

"0 what is love?" I cried. "What is my star. 

Whose beams I trust to lead me through the night? 

How may I tell it from those lights afar 

Luring me toward the marsh, where terrors fright? 

Or does it smile on winsome youth alone? 

And will it fail when I am old and gray? 

Or if some grievous wound I should bemoan, 

Must I without its light pursue my way?" 

"0 what is love?" I cried, and would not cease, 

But question made thereof of all I met; 

Yet in no answer found my spirit peace, 

And baffled seeking did new search beget. 

Thus did the changing years bring me no rest. 

But each, departing, left me on my quest. 



[15] 



XI 

Wayworn, toiled up the steep a child and I: 

O'erhead the leafy roof, its arches thrown 

From columned trees; colors of sunset sky 

At fretted windows of the forest shone. 

At length we came where paven pool did well; 

And pausing at this font to cool my brow, 

I heard the sweet voice of a vesper bell; 

And lo! with pitcher, to the pool, cam'st thou. 

With reverence before thy maiden grace 

Did I obeisance, in due courtesy; 

And begged, if there were shelter in the place, 

Strangers might know its hospitality. 

Then didst thou lead o'er the short path to where 

A castle reared aloft its turrets fair. 



[16] 



XII 

Within was shown the little child and me 

Such kindness as to honored guests is paid; 

Welcomed and washed and richly robed were we, 

And in the great hall was a banquet laid. 

On vaulted roof, and walls and floor of stone. 

On snowy cloth, and gold and silver plate, 

The glory of a thousand candles shone; 

And rich and rare the viands that we ate. 

Then, feasting ended, all from sound did cease ; 

A quiet fell, as when at close of day 

Over the tossing waves there comes a peace 

Before the queen of night resumes her sway; 

And yet to me were anxious glances sent. 

Ere on an opening door all eyes were bent. 



[17] 



XIII 

A band of maidens passed into the hall; 
In twos they came, all clad in virgin white; 
From flowery garlands did their tresses fall; 
And girdles wrought in gold, and jewels bright, 
Flashed in the light of candles borne by some; 
While hands of some held sacred emblems high; 
And after them the queen of all did come, 
As comes the moon into the starry sky. 
Before thy beauty others seemed but pale, — 
For that most radiant queen of all, wert thou ; 
By thee was held aloft the Holy Grail, 
And at its presence every head did bow. 
Entranced was I, and to myself did seem 
Like one who sleeps and sees a heavenly dream. 



[18] 



XIV 

How may I tell of what thereafter passed, 
Since words would of that wondrous vision fail? 
I only know mine eyes did see at last 
A child was formed within the Holy Grail. 
And thereupon, that other little child. 
Who sat by me and who my weary way 
With his sweet company had long beguiled, 
Gently a warning hand on mine did lay. 
Then, at his touch, as from the sleep I woke ; 
And anxious were the faces turned toward me; 
The breathless silence of the hall I broke. 
And asked the meaning of the mystery. 
Thine answering look, and I did understand 
That which would bring the healing of the land. 



[19] 



XV 



In the dark bell-tower, when the great bell swings, 

Upstarts the dust of centuries; the bat 

Chatters and weaves its flight with fluttering wings; 

Owls wake and hiss; away the startled rat 

Runs squeaking to his hole; 'minded of flies, 

The spiders quick o'er trembling meshes go; 

While to the listening gargoyle doth arise 

The howling of a dog from far below. 

And sadly like to this my state would prove, — 

Into my mind, when the great bell should ring 

That calleth to the sacrament of love. 

Thoughts like these creatures of the tower would 

spring, — 
If I in narrow bounds too close should dwell 
Alone in dust and darkness with the bell. 



[20] 



XVI 

Nay, rather, let the thoughts that bell shall bring 

Befit the vast cathedral's hallowed space. 

Where praise to God the white-robed choir doth sing 

And priests before the sacred altar pace: 

Stately the columns rise, like forest trees, 

And many a sculptured branch doth intertwine 

With beast and bird, in token that all these 

Make manifest a power and love divine: 

There, carved from stone, or in the window's glory, 

Or where the roof echoes the organ's peal. 

Appear the scenes of many a sacred story; 

And saints look down on multitudes who kneel. 

Kneeling with them I worship Him who gives 

Life and the thrill of love to all that lives. 



[21] 



XVII 

thou Creative Spirit, who dost move 
All of thy creatures to beget their kind, 
From thee, within man's heart, the fire of love. 
From thee, the beckoning visions of his mind : 
Which when he follows and doth seek to hold, 
Become for him the blest reality ; 
His mate unto his bosom he doth fold; 
His precious child is laid upon his knee; 
His home, which yesterday was but a dream, 
Protects him with its shelter, dream no more. 
Its cheerful lights upon his pathway gleam. 
When he returns at night unto its door. 
For all these gifts well may he often raise 
His heart to thee in gratitude and praise. 



[22] 



XVIII 

The land is sick and full of grievous pain ; 

Its smiles give place to tears, its songs to moans; 

Its dire distemper doth its vigor drain; 

Mingled with beauty, — pallor, staring bones, 

Or flush of fever; while anon the laugh 

Of spirit wandering assails the ear, 

As empty cup doth the sick fancy quaff 

And thinks itself possessed of health and cheer. 

The land is sick and longing for relief. 

Is any who can o'er this ill prevail, 

To heal the wound and to assuage the grief? 

None but the spirit of the Holy Grail. 

He must physician by the sufferer stand, 

Or unto death the illness of the land. 



[23] 



XIX 

When, like an ancient sibyl in her cave, 
I sit and ponder on the times to be. 
Often doth mournful song my spirit lave 
And write I down sad words of prophecy. 
Then cometh hope, which like a gusty wind 
Scatters my leaves, these oracles of fear. 
Drives the lamenting phantoms from my mind 
And summons those that carol songs of cheer. 
What though the sky be dark with portents dread? 
After the cloud cometh the sun again; 
The freshened earth below, heaven's bow o'erhead, 
When passed the tempest, thunder bolt, and rain. 
Death and decay the future needs must hold, 
Yet life doth ever to new growth unfold. 



[24] 



XX 

Though much of illness the physician knows, 
Health, the ideal which he doth present; 
And how to gain this wished-for goal, he shows 
In cheerful words of wise admonishment. 
Or when the boat down the swift rapid flies. 
Where Death, awaiting there his prey, doth brood, 
On the unmoving shore, the steersman's eyes. 
Not on the swirling eddies of the flood. 
Then let the bard upraise no mournful strain. 
But let him make his song a bugle call 
To hearten those who shall the victory gain 
Though some must suff^er wounds and some must fall. 
Eternal truth and beauty is his theme. 
Forever over time and change supreme. 



[25] 



XXI 

Woman, in thine own loins thou bear'st the grail, 

Which the Creative Power to thee did give; 

Without such office life from earth would fail. 

For through the Holy Grail come all that live. 

Trained from thy childhood's earliest years art thou 

A worthy bearer of the grail to be; 

No higher place could Life on thee bestow 

Than of high priestess in his mystery. 

Well may'st thou guard the honor of that place, 

And manhood's reverence well may'st command; 

Devotion of thine office to the race 

Will raise to health again the stricken land, 

When all shall will thy child well bom to be. 

Well nurtured unto full maturity. 



[26] 



XXII 

youth, upon whose brow health lays a crown 
Fairer than wreathed laurel, and whose eyes 
Bespeak a noble mind that holds renown 
For honest manly deeds thy dearest prize. 
In all thine excellence I take delight; 
Yet sum of all and patent of thy worth. 
Bearing great Nature's seal, is thy proud right 
That through thee future ages should find birth. 
With many an ode thee would I celebrate; 
With many a prayer to Love would I implore 
That he preserve thee in thy high estate 
And be thy friend and patron evermore. 
Ring forth, glad harp, thy loftiest strains upraise, 
As now we sing of such a one the praise. 



[27] 



XXIII 

The fields of life are sweet with June for thee, 

Where throned beneath a canopy of green 

Sits Youth, a king 'mid joyous company, 

And Beauty, blossom crowned, his gracious queen. 

Immortal these through suffrage of that throng; 

And when Love comes to thee their cause to plead 

Go valiant forth with their defenders strong. 

Since of thy faithful service have they need. 

For foul Decay plots Beauty's overthrow, 

And Age and Death would put an end to Youth; 

Their dire attacks will never respite know. 

Nor do their hearts feel ever touch of ruth. 

And yet, through thee, though Death thy body kill. 

May Youth and Beauty reign immortal still. 



[28] 



J 



XXIV 

When is the moon most fair? when o'er the snow 

She scatters sparkling diamonds of light, 

Whose flashing fire bespeaks no living glow, 

Nor warms the bitter cold of winter night? 

Nay, she is fairest when her radiance 

Beams down from heaven through the soft summer 

air; 
When from her face to sleeping lake we glance, 
And see her loveliness reflected there. 
So, Woman, thou art fairest when thy face 
Looks down in love upon a little child; 
No flash of sparkling wit, no maiden grace, ;v' 

Can so move man to worship, as the mild ■ 

Benignant look with which a mother keeps 
Watch o'er her babe, that on her bosom sleeps. 



[29] 



XXV 

home, thou art for fallen outcast man 
The memory of that lost paradise 
Where in the fabled past his race began: 
And from waste fields of misery and vice 
Still must he fence thee in, that he may give 
To children's growing souls their native air 
And soil of love; for only thus may live 
Virtues whose blossoms can still make life fair. 
But more art thou than memory; thou art 
A prophecy, as well; from thee shall spread 
O'er all the world these virtues of the heart, 
Reclaiming all the barren, waste, and dead; 
Till filled with loving thoughts for others' good 
Man shall attain his dream of brotherhood. 



[30] 



XXVI 

Oft do I hark for voice of human kind 
As for love's feet I seek to find the way; 
Who rashly leaves humanity behind, 
To his own loss in lonely paths will stray. 
Strong the assuring voices, full of cheer, 
And visions of a mighty host I see, — 
Humanity thronging about me here 
And keeping to this ancient road with me. 
Earth's tribes are they who guarded wife and home 
And longed for child with passionate desire; 
Nor counts their human nature less when come 
Those whom their naked beauty doth attire; 
For none more human, — free, though oft despised. 
From many a vice that blights the civilized. 



[31] 



XXVII 

"0 dreamer," said my brethren unto me, 
"Think not to see the world's ripe harvest bow 
Before thy sheaf. Ideals may weigh with thee ; 
We hold to wisdom of the Here and Now." 
E'en as they spoke, a pebble at my feet 
Told me its story of the ages gone: 
The Here, the sport of change; the Now doth fleet 
To future ages: still are children bom; 
Customs and laws the lattice that doth hold 
Their growing spirits; let the lattice change, 
The vine more wealth of blossoms may unfold. 
Broader and higher may its branches range. 
Ever aspires the restless growing mind; 
Ideals, new vantage points its tendrils find. 



[32] 



XXVIII 

Altars are broken and beliefs become 

The childhood stories of a wiser age, 

Yet still doth man enshrine Thee in his home 

And in Thy worship still doth he engage. 

For Thou art Life and Love; through Thee the past, 

Through Thee the present, and again through Thee 

Will Thy creation traverse all the vast 

And unknown regions of posterity. 

Where sacred held this heritage of life; 

And constant love doth hearts in wedlock bind ; 

And in Thy goodly fear man joins with wife 

In care of childhood, there Thy shrine I find. 

Ever in such a home revered art Thou, 

And there in worship man will ever bow. 



[33] 



XXIX 

Would I not shield my Love from entangling briar, 

Or raise the branch that would her sweet face smite? 

So from the pathway of our hearts' desire 

Would I remove all hurt ere, wedding night. 

When warm and true the pressure of her hand, 

And all her soul looked forth in love to me, 

Could I a harm entailing proof demand 

Of her devotion to Virginity? 

Let wisdom seals of antique custom break; 

My care my Love should be a happy bride. 

Prepared in body and in soul to take 

This path with me, her lover, at her side. 

No cloud should dim for her the sweet moonlight 

That floods the world with joy on wedding night. 



[34] 



XXX 

When Conscience stands riot trembling and alone, 
But joined with Duty smiles upon our love; 
And cloud about us, hosts from ages gone 
And from the present, witness and approve; 
And present moment, like a morning star, 
Beams down a benison for future's day, — 
Withdrawn from gate of bliss will be each bar, 
That we through Paradise may take our way. 
Then let Religion with her solemn rite 
To the Creative Spirit consecrate; 
And Law our union strengthen with the might 
Of the supported and supporting state; 
And Love our guide and guardian become, 
His fire within our hearts; his shrine, our home. 



[35] 



XXXI 

Because on brow of Vice a precious gem 

Or far more oft its worthless counterfeit, 

Must Virtue cast aside her diadem 

And on her throne in nun's sad raiment sit? 

Passion, that gem, flawed on the brow of Vice 

Or but a fraud to cheat the silly gaze; 

In Virtue's crown, jewel of countless price, 

Passion, her own prerogative, doth blaze. 

For what is passion but intensest love? 

And who can love, but Virtue's self alone? 

then the nun's black robes would I remove 

And unto Virtue would restore her own. 

Let her be crowned and throned in ancient state, 

With Joy and Beauty by her side to wait. 



[36] 



XXXII 

Nature ordained the mysteries of love, 
Which changed by custom nor by law can be; 
Who follows her in this will happy prove, 
Who disobeys must pay the penalty. 
And if from Nature I have learned aught, 
To woman doth the precedence belong; 
Hers the authority when temple sought 
With stately solemn march and choral song. 
Stately and solemn, as befits the train 
Of generations at whose head we stand. 
Yet thrilling gladness breathes in every strain 
As my dear Love and I walk hand in hand. 
E'en when my office it shall be to lead. 
She the high priestess, to whose will I heed. 



[37] 



XXXIII 

Would love e'er take the instrument away 

From player's hand before the music done; 

Or strike to earth the cup which would allay 

Another's thirst, when draught had but begun? 

Or would the bridegroom leave the saddened bride 

To falter, 'mid her angry maids, confused, 

And altar gain without her at his side 

Because his stride to her slow pace unused? 

Then I, like all true lovers, would give heed. 

When of love's sacrament we should partake, 

To satisfy my dear Love's every need. 

Her hunger feed, her thirst to fullness slake. 

For deeper than all joy that came to me 

The joy of giving bliss to her would be. 



[38] 



XXXIV 

Not crust and water is our proper food, — 

Merely sufficient to maintain life's fire; 

Savor and due abundance hold we good, 

To feed both body's need and soul's desire. 

Nor doth a natural appetite make friend 

Of dull satiety. Such company 

To all his brightest joys would put an end; 

The friend he seeks is happy memory. 

And these with us the feast would celebrate, 

Giving my Love and me their wholesome cheer. 

Though deep the draught and sweet the food we ate, 

Nor lack nor surfeit need we ever fear. 

And when our days of festival were past, 

In memory their beauty still would last. 



[39] 



XXXV 

Passion is Nature's child; 't is her delight 
Forth from the strait and stifling town to roam, 
Till every trace of bondage lost to sight, 
She breathes the free air of her native home. 
Therefore my Love and I wfth eager feet 
Would seek her oft in bowery wilderness; 
Potent her aid as Nature we entreat 
To bless our union with all fruitfulness. 
sweet 'mid buttercups our bed to make; 
Or by the dark of night yet closer drawn. 
To hear the wind, above, faint lispings wake 
Where sleep the nesting birds till break of dawn,- 
To know ourselves of Nature very part, 
Thrilled by the pulsing of her mighty heart. 



[40] 



XXXVI 

Amid my thoughts of love, a dream so sweet,— 
Like bank of rarest flowers which one would hide 
For fear that thoughtless passers ill entreat 
If blooms so fair and delicate they spied. 
I feel around my neck my dear Love's arms; 
Close to my ear her lips with whispered word, 
A word which all my world of spirit charms, 
No lovelier enchantment e'er was heard. 
Now, vestal virgins, guard ye passion's fire. 
Which we surrender to your ministry; 
No more we walk the pathway of desire, 
Diana now our patroness shall be. 
Bound each to each with untold tenderness. 
Prayer for her bounty we to her address. 



[41] 



XXXVII 

When my dear Love into my arms should lay 

Our new-bom child, whose cost had been such pain. 

Tumultuous joy would so my being sway 

I know that I from tears could scarce refrain. 

blissful dream! and happy, happy hour 

Spent in sweet silence at my Dear One's side! 

What words that lips could frame could have the 

power 
To speak my love, my gratitude, my pride. 
Around her brow, worn with such gentle grace, 
Halo of motherhood I now should see; 
And in its heavenly light my Dear One's face 
More beautiful than e'er before would be. 
Mother and child! Ola shepherd kneel, 
For adoration is the love I feel! 



[42] 



XXXVIII 

Now come sweet days of mother's watchful care; 

And tuneful birds in labor's field would be 

Thoughts of my darling child who now would share 

In every harvest of my industry. 

And when at noontide heat from toil I rest, 

What present joy, what hopes my heart would cheer. 

The while my Love should nourish at her breast 

The little one whose life to us so dear. 

Careful in no way Nature to divert 

From her provision of such needed food, 

To summon Passion would we hold as hurt; 

Our joy would be to choose our darling's good; 

And Passion, liking ill to brook delay. 

Might take from us that hindering good away. 



[43] 



XXXIX 

Not yet let tree of life bear passion's flowers, 
Season of leaf should follow for a time; 
For fruitage doth deplete all vital powders, 
Which now advance to fullness of their prime. 
Where were my love for mother or for child 
If seeking child I stint my child of mother? 
How could I be to tired eyes reconciled 
When all too soon came burden of another? 
Dearer than life, would be my Love to me; 
And naught could now a deeper pleasure bring 
Than heightening color in her cheeks to see. 
And at her task to hear her blithely sing. 
Love cannot hurt another; but to bless 
With life and joy, is all love's happiness. 



[44] 



XL 

Now let the sun's glad warmth linger at eve; 

Now let the morning stars together sing; 

Now may the virgins white their vigil leave; 

Now for the tree its time of blossoming. 

fair my Love! fair in the sweet moonlight, 

When lips to ever yearning lips draw near! 

Fair as when first our true love we did plight, 

And for each hour since then even more dear! 

Now to love's Paradise may we repair; 

In hand of angel guard no more the sword; 

The Spirit calls through the still evening air; 

Again through all our being thrills the word 

Of Him who moved upon the deep, whose power 

Woke life and beauty at creation's hour. 



[45] 



^ XLI 

When in my thoughts the clustered heads I see, 

Each with its aureole of childhood's gold, 

And radiant faces bending eagerly 

The blessed, new-bom stranger to behold, 

"How beautiful!" I say: and with what cheer 

We welcome to our arms and hearts another. 

As, longed for, each thus takes its place, how dear 

That little flock! how deeply loved their mother! 

Sweeter than song of birds to hear at mom. 

Our children's voices greeting the new day. 

How gladly for our brood the burden borne 

Till they asleep are nestled all away! 

Like blossoms by my path are such sweet dreams; 

And each, as I behold, the fairest seems. 



[46] 



XLII 

How closely joys like these bind heart to heart! 

And as they came to me and my dear Love 

Could aught a tie of greater strength impart, 

Which time from memory could less remove? 

Ay, there is one who bringeth even such, 

And few the homes that ne'er his presence know; 

Yet oh, how shrinks the soul from that dread touch! 

Not bond of joy is his, but bond of woe. 

Should the death angel stand within the room, 

And our own precious child lifeless we see, 

In anguish of that hour that tie would come 

Of sorrow and of cherished memory. 

Rarely would words to mutual thoughts respond, 

But oh, how felt would be that lasting bond! 



[47] 



XLIII 

What fond delight in growing boy to trace 

My dear Love's lineaments fresh renewed, 

Or in a daughter find some special grace 

Like to her mother's, or her voice endued 

With the same sweetness. Thus my Love would give 

While still herself her youth again to me. 

And all her beauty multiplied would live 

To bless the world through our posterity. 

Again, what joy to see each eager mind, 

Of skill and knowledge growing store acquire; 

Unto high virtues of the race, to find 

Each earnest heart for its own self aspire. 

Methinks such lot, so happy and so blest. 

Is, of all those in gift of Fortune, best. 



[48] 



XLIV 

The mountain stream checked by the avalanche 
Wastes not its strength in stagnating morass, 
But seizing earth and rock and tangled branch 
Flings them aside that it again may pass. 
Thus would my Love and I if we were stayed 
From realization of our rightful dream, — 
If want or illness sought to be obeyed. 
Checking the course of fruitful passion's stream. 
For not in barren, sensual love would we 
Force of our hindered spirits dissipate. 
But unremitting would endeavor be 
To burst those bonds, our dream to reinstate; 
Or this denied, our love a lake would lie. 
Reflecting in its calm, clear depths the sky. 



[49] 



XLV 

When life for us from its high noon declined, 

Nature's predestined mandate soon must come 

That now creative power must be resigned 

And we no more enlarge the bounds of home. 

Then would we rouse no more the dying fire, 

But unto other service would we turn ; 

Though left to ashes altar of desire. 

Our lamp of love would ever brightly bum. 

Hearth of the state would be the more our care 

'Mid fewer duties of our parenthood; 

What wisdom years had brought us we would share 

With gathered council for the public good. 

Companions round us would our children be; 

And more and more our thought. Posterity. 



[50] 



XLVI 

Boasts not the hoar and withered harvest com 

Beauty which can with its green prime compare? 

Or when upon the vine are clusters borne. 

And boughs are heavy, and the very air 

Of mild October seems of fruitage full, 

Come there not days as sweet as those of May? 

Even November's heaven gives blessing cool 

Ere life in winter sleep is laid away. 

Thus with my Love and I, though hair were white, 

Would well contented days of autumn be: 

What crowning joy, what fullness of delight, 

Our children's children like a flock to see! 

Our prayer that when faded the last day's glow. 

Into the darkness hand in hand we go. 



[51] 



XLVII 

"Thy kingdom come." who can make that prayer 

Perfect in satisfying harmony, 

Like those on whose bowed heads the whitened hair. 

And kneeling round, their own posterity. 

Through the long past unnumbered battles fought, 

Youth's promises of service well fulfilled; 

What though 'mid common things of life they 

wrought? 
It was the Heavenly kingdom to upbuild. 
Their joy, their privilege it was to give 
That without which the kingdom cannot come; 
They pass away, but still their children live 
To keep Love's laws and guard the ties of home. 
Thus through the years the kingdom shall be won, 
And more and more the will of Love be done. 



[52] 



XLVIII 

Springtime still decks the wayside with her blooms 

Lovely as any that the years have seen; 

Even where gleams the marble of the tombs 

The trees put forth their leaves, the lawns are green; 

Still do the children run and shout at play, 

Youth dreams his dreams, the lover sings his song; 

And still do life and beauty fill to-day, 

To them all riches of the past belong; 

Still doth the world await expectantly 

The unknown good which coming years will bring; 

Sorrow can ne'er o'er Joy the victor be, 

Nor can Doubt fetter Faith's aspiring wing. 

Let childhood play, and youth seek happy wife, 

Joyously confident in good of life. 



[53] 



SONNETS 
. PART II 



XLIX 

When from the hall the revelers have gone, 

And where was splendor now the light is dim, 

Still doth the harper linger there alone 

Save that his memories companion him. 

Then the loved strings, which for the dancers rang, 

Voice to its depths their master's soul again; 

And now they moan; and now in discord clang; 

And now triumphant is the joyful strain. 

So in these gathered songs a change ye find; 

Now must the happy dreams of love depart; 

Now come, awaking moans of troubled mind. 

The hopeless sorrows of a broken heart. 

But out of conflict, bitter though it be. 

Shall rise, at last, paeans of victory. 



[57] 



Dim was the lonely road with gathering night; 

And borne by hurrying wind came down the sleet 

To spread o'er winter wood its shroud of white. 

And in my face it pitilessly beat. 

Yet at my weary heart was more of ache, — 

More bitter is the touch of frozen tears; 

No hope did me its glad companion make 

Of finding love, which home-returning cheers. 

Darkness and cold had entered at my door; 

No hand to lay my table would there be; 

And should I from the silence word implore, 

Only would mournful echo answer me. 

For I, whose soul love's every longing felt. 

In endless exile there a hermit dwelt. 



[58] 



LI 

stricken brother with the clanging bell, 
Out of whose road the little children flee, 

1 know thy sorows for I, too, must dwell 
O'ershadowed by a like adversity. 

Yet amid buried joys to make my home 

And choose for herald and companion, Fear, 

Whose frown forbids that any child should come 

To take my hand or fondly linger near, 

E'en this, the leper's lot, is better far 

Than that with blinded eyes and treacherous mask 

I knock at Pleasure's gate and he unbar 

And 'mid his troupe I take the place I ask. 

While Pain and Death should entrance make with me. 

And stern Remorse, my torturer to be. 



[59] 



LII 

I stood upon the hill and saw, below, 

The city stretching mile on mile away. 

What currents of man's spirit tliere did flow! 

Felt to the ends of all the earth were they. 

Yet not of wealth or learning was my thought, 

Or of the skill and might of industry; 

But oh! the love there in that valley brought 

Sense of the vast and beautiful to me. 

A myriad roofs, and every roof a home; 

For every home a myriad loving ties; 

How many thousands back at night would come 

To wife's caress and children's happy eyes! 

And oh! the depth of sorrow that for me 

The joy of such a home would never be. 



[60] 



LIII 

When in my thoughts I see the precious child 

Whose life's bright taper would be lit by me, 

With that sweet one my heart is so beguiled 

I well-nigh feel his weight upon my knee. 

His little form encircled by my arm, 

His head upon my shoulder fondly laid; 

With me to guard him from all touch of harm, 

His timid heart need never be afraid. 

Then sudden by my side that spectre grim 

Before whose power my head must ever bend ; 

I could not hide my little one from him. 

Nor ward the blow which would from him descend. 

To keep that child from falling thus a prey. 

For very love I let him fade away. 



[61] 



LIV 

I dreamed I wandered in a sacred glen, 
Where in a cloven rock I found a spring, 
Which mirrored faithfully my image when 
I stooped above its marge: and wondering 
I saw that image from the water rise, 
A little child, with rippling laughter gay; 
Fresh was its face, and happy were its eyes; 
It took my- hand and went with me away. 
I woke, and Sorrow with her urn of tears 
Crouched by me in the darkness; well I knew 
That though I journeyed many weary years 
That mirrored image I should never view. 
Yet always in my heart will longing be 
For that sweet happy child who came to me. 



[62] 



LV 

Like joy which the sweet blossoms of the spring 
Give me, long weary of the winter snow, 
Is that, which to my heart the children bring, 
Whenever pilgrim to the town I go: 
The flowers know not how fair unto mine eye 
Each drooping bud and each uplifted face; 
Nor do the children, as I pass them by. 
Know how I feel their beauty and their grace; 
But all unconscious how my heart they move, 
Like flowers they dance and frolic at their play; 
I breathe again the air of home and love, 
For home and love bring flowers such as they. 
Yet oh! how short my springtime needs must be! 
Soon comes the winter back again to me. 



[63] 



LVI 

Like one who in a cavern long hath been, 
Where barren darkness holds its silent sway, 
And now come forth, enjoys the rustling green. 
And warm and fragrant air, and light of day, 
So I, who in Death's shadow 'make my home, 
Rejoice, dear friend, as now I sit with thee 
And in bright firelight of the cheerful room 
Thy wife and children, by thy side, I see. 
The tones of love and home enchant mine ear, 
The children's chatter and their winsome cries; 
Thy words telling of all achieved I hear; 
I sit in silence and with moistened eyes. 
Ah! 't is not grief that makes me well-nigh weep, 
'T is that this beauty moves my heart so deep. 



[64] 



LVII 

Methought Love brought to me a crystal sphere, 

On which he bade me steadfastly to gaze; 

Therein I saw a woman's form appear, 

And she her hand to fruited branch did raise. 

Then answered I, "So fair a one I see 

My heart would fain be wax to such a seal." 

"Look once again thereon," said Love to me, 

"And see what now the crystal will reveal." 

Then saw I funeral tapers and a bier. 

And in her shroud the woman lay there dead; 

For sorrow brimmed upon my cheek a tear, 

At sight of which. Love, watching, bowed his head. 

Without a word, well did I understand: 

I gave the sphere back to his outstretched hand. 



[65] 



LVIII 

In dream came one of princely guise to me, 
With written bond begot by legal brain; 
The which if I would sign, he would agree 
That I the bliss of loving wife should gain; 
Nor in our pathway should we ever find 
Footprint of want to fill our home with fears; 
Mated for ay in heart and matched in mind, 
In Pleasure's garden we should spend our years. 
"And what," said I, "from me dost thou require?" 
"Easy the terms, — thy soul of fatherhood. 
Thou must no more thy children's good desire. 
And thou must sign this parchment with their blood.' 
Then answered I, "Away, thou fiend of Hell; 
Never will I, love for my children sell." 



[66] 



LIX 

Methought a cherub band my path beset, 

Souls of my children, begging to be born; 

Whom to refuse filled me with sad regret, 

Yet gave they comfort to my heart forlorn. 

Then a fair woman came, to cheer my way. 

And her I took my wedded wife to be ; 

But now our love required that we should slay 

The troops of cherubs that I brought with me. 

So for these innocents we spread a snare, 

For much we feared their presence, and we drowned 

The sweet beseeching souls, our anxious care 

That not a single one alive be found. 

But in my heart was lust, hell in my brain. 

And on my forehead blushed the brand of Cain. 



[67] 



LX 

Heavy my heart, o'erburdened with its grief, 

For hope, long lingering, must surely die. 

I raised my eyes to heaven for relief 

And saw a cross against the sunset sky. 

High o'er the city on its spire it stood. 

With message for the multitudes below: 

Familiar sight from childhood was the rood. 

Yet suddenly new meaning it did show. 

Not only for the agony of one 

Who died long years ago in Holy Land, 

But for the suffering that this day's sun 

Had looked on, did that cross a symbol stand ; 

Yet now, to me, forevermore it saith, 

"Still can love triumph over pain and death." 



[68] 



LXI 

Have olden gods found willing followers 

Who from blind superstition gave their all 

That through such loss they be engenderers 

Of fruitfulness in cradle, field, and stall? 

Doth Rome ne'er lack of sons and daughters know 

Who choose the lone unwedded life as theirs 

That when the harvest angels forth do go 

There be more wheat to bind and fewer tares? 

Shall these be, and not I, whom Truth doth guide 

To monkly vows administered by Love, 

Without a murmur by my lot abide 

And to my race a loyal servant prove? 

Then will I scorn to shed unmanly tear. 

And I will greet the world with buoyant cheer. 



[69] 



LXII 

Cramped to myself what pleasure could I find, 
Since most which men call good is me denied? 
Scarce met I Youth when I his gifts resigned, 
Health, and triumphant love, and manly pride; 
And as along my weary path I went. 
Illness and Poverty beside me there, 
Old Age came by, and pitying glance he bent 
That I so soon his sorrows needs must share. 
Cramped to myself, — but why in prison stay 
When wide the door to all dominion free? 
Forth will I range, from all who greet to-day 
To the far limits of posterity; 
And in that realm I may such joys possess 
As make my heart o'erflow with happiness. 



[70] 



LXIII 

Shall I in fancy a sweet mistress take, 
And forth for her my songs of passion pour? 
Or shall I some fair friend my goddess make, 
Hymning the praise of her whom I adore? 
Nay, let my heart lie quiet in its grave ; 
Why raise the ghost its olden lyre to sweep? 
And let my songs of love be glad and brave, 
Not sad laments at which the hearers weep. 
Place will I seek 'mid joyous company 
Who at a wedding feast their voices raise, 
With ringing harp their bard of love to be, 
Leading them as they sing the lovers' praise. 
Ah, sweeter will my singing be for this. 
To find my fount of joy in others' bliss 1 



T71] 



LXIV 

Let me not sit with sluggards in the sun 
Pleading exemption from a father's care; 
My work for home and child will not be done 
Till friends my body to the grave shall bear. 
What though I labor in a distant field 
With few to give my lonely strivings heed? 
The harvest which the mountain acres yield 
May yet the children of the city feed. 
Or there may come this way, perchance, a youth 
Who seed for planting will discover here, 
Which grown to sheaves of beauty and of truth 
Amid his mighty harvest will appear. 
Such thoughts as these attend, my work to bless. 
And cheer me in my hours of weariness. 



[72] 



LXV 

"Like mountain clad in snow art thou," one said. 
"What knowest thou of sultry twilight hour 
When the white, sandaled feet are willing led 
To bed of roses in the lovers' bower?" 
'T is true like mountain clad in snow am I, 
But at my heart there lives eternal fire; 
Where cold beneath the stars the glaciers lie 
Are felt the thrill and heave of love's desire ; 
And where my spirit from its bonds is freed 
Spring streams of love that seek the valley wide, 
Perchance in sultry twilight hour to feed 
The very vines which do thy lovers hide; 
And in that bower the roses red may owe 
Their evening sweetness to the mountain snow. 



[73] 



LXVI 

I found a woman by the riverside, 

Who wept to see the unfolding buds of spring; 

And thus the flow^ery banks I heard her chide : — 

"Why to my mind do you its sorrow bring? 

Why must spring come to mock my barrenness? 

would that winter never went away! 

All your delights but add to my distress, 

Which only love and lover can allay; 

For all my life, which struggles toward its spring, 

Is bound by icy fetters, and I feel 

An ever rising wind of bitter sting 

The very marrow of my bones congeal; 

And in that wind are voices dread which say 

That ne'er for me shall winter pass away." 



[74] 



LXVII 

Then drew I near and word of comfort spoke: — 

"I too am bound by Winter's icy chain, 

But from its prison-house my spirit broke 

Never a captive to return again. 

My body lies for ay in Winter's power; 

My joyous spirit, in the train of spring. 

Calls to the Earth that now the happy hour 

Has come again for her awakening. 

Her children all are mine; I celebrate 

With them in field and wood the marriage rite; 

When 'neath the silver moon true lovers mate, 

Then thrills my own heart with their sweet delight. 

Arise, for now thou too in spirit free. 

May follow in the train of Spring with me." 



[75] 



LXVIII 

I heard the prowling wolf's familiar cry, 
" 'T is but an owl," I said, weary and cold, 
"Or if a wolf, the wall is builded high 
And all my sheep are safe within the fold." 
Now, startled by thy moan, I find thee here 
All torn and bleeding and in sorry plight; 
Nor do I know if I may yet come near, 
Or thou wilt flee bewildered in thy fright, — 
Wilt flee to where the wolf will tear thee more 
And with his fellows make of thee an end, 
Their cruel hunger whetted by the gore 
Of one whose safety it was mine to tend. 
Unfaithful I; the wall was weak and low; 
Never should I have dared neglect thee so. 



[76] 



LXIX 

Love, release thy hold ; make truce with Sleep ; 
Not so insistent in thine urging be. 
"Arm thee," thou sayest, yet from that dost keep 
Which most with armed strength would furnish me. 
Give way; let Sleep perform her needed part; 
What skilful plan can come to weary brain? , 

So tossed am I with tumult in my heart. 
That every sense is fainting 'neath the strain. 
As in a dream, I walk; the earth and sky 
Inconsequent and unfamiliar seem; 
And ever do I hear an anguished cry ; 
With forms of horror doth my fancy teem; 
When darkness comes I lay me down in dread 
Lest Sleep again be hindered from my bed. 



D77] 



LXX 

Why should I smite with words of angry blame, 

When thou hast given thyself so deep a wound? 

Why should I hold before thy face thy shame, 

When from that hurt thy better self hath swooned 

Leaving thy worse self with disordered sight 

To falsify the witness of thine eyes. 

Declaring base things fair, and wrong things right. 

And ways of sin and folly, safe and wise? 

But when thy better self from swoon awakes 

Then glad will be her welcome to that friend 

Who side with her in bitter conflict takes 

Against thy worse self who did so off'end ; 

And hands of tender love she then will need. 

To bind the wound from which she now doth bleed. 



[78] 



LXXI 

Canst force the branch uprearing forest oak 

Back to the tiny acorn whence it grew? 

Or the wing wafted moth canst thou invoke 

Into the worm's poor shell from which it flew? 

Then thou canst not in bounds of self content 

That soul which once therein found ample space. 

But which in that strait realm no longer pent 

Hath taken all creation for its place. 

And with creative love is now so filled 

That passion's center lies in self no more; 

Life and abundant life by it are willed, 

That up through sense the spirit still may soar. 

In service is its joy, as it doth raise 

To the Creative Power eternal praise. 



[79] 



LXXII 

travelers o'er the desert, yonder bright 

Unmoving star will surely lead your feet 

To a green oasis of sweet delight, 

And fruit of clustered palms ye there shall eat; 

And ye shall drink of water; sparkling, cool, 

Which from among the mossy rocks doth well; 

Your rest, by stream which brimming from that pool 

Goes singing down a blossom bordered dell. 

And ye upon this desert place of life. 

Who follow day by day yon high ideal. 

Your dreams, with which the world doth seem at 

strife. 
Ye yet shall see become the happy real ; 
And ye shall gain the water which doth give 
In youth and joy immortally to live. 



[80] 



SONNETS 
PART III 



LXXIII 

Spirit of Friendship, a chief patron thou 

Of marriage and of home ; to Passion's shrine 

Let each his heart's most precious jewels vow, 

Yet will he bring its garlands unto thine. 

For Passion's is a veiled, secluded place. 

Holy of holies, too sublime for use 

Of common days; but offerings will grace 

Thine altar each new mom, blossoms profuse 

Of shared delights; at eve will incense rise 

Of loving words. Here will the children come. 

And friends be led, whose songs will solemnize 

With joyous strains the happiness of home. 

As I, an exile, this my offering wreathe. 

Prayer for thy blessing on all hearts I breathe. 



[83] 



LXXIV 

Within my soul's domain is none more fair 
Than is the realm of childhood's memories; 
And often he who seeks will find me there. 
With merry mates, at high festivities. 
Our palace roof, the azure, green, and gold, 
Upheld by columns of the orchard trees; 
While down the vistas round us we behold 
Rich tapestries, our glancing eyes to please: 
Beneath, mosaics that might well surpass 
Those trod of old by famous Eastern kings, 
The flowers and the shadow varied grass. 
Where butterflies flit by on gorgeous wings. 
The bird musicians flute a sweet refrain. 
And feet are fleet and hearts are light again. 



[84] 



LXXV 

Woman, thou art fair, but ne'er to eye 
Of Manhood hath thy beauty brighter shone 
Than long ago to fellow child who shy 
Held thy loved hand a moment in his own. 
Friendship, who the hearts of men dost bind 
So sure that those dear bonds Death cannot break. 
In love of man for man thou dost not find 
More joy than child doth in his playmate take. 
palace fair and happy company. 
There in my sunny land of long ago. 
With you again in thought I '11 often be, 
Howe'er so broad my soul's dominions grow; 
And my voice shall be one borne by the breeze. 
From children playing 'neath the orchard trees. 



[85] 



LXXVI 

Friend of my youth, when on thy life I look 
Meseemeth like a child who scarce can read; 
Thy days, the pages of a wondrous book, 
Which I to understand could ne'er succeed; 
While mine, show only things of childish care, 
Which would not hold a friend's attention long,- 
Here 't is a pictured flower, and stain of tear. 
Or here the slow writ letters of a song. 
But 0, how full am I of gratitude 
That thine so wonderful a book could be. 
That to thy life hath richly come the good 
Which the All Father hath withheld from me! 
I love thee, and it giveth me delight 
On page of my to-day this song to write. 



[86] 



LXXVII 

Sorrow, at parting, comes to me to-night, 

And at her dreaded touch I feel that pain 

Which as a child I felt when from my sight 

A playmate went to come no more again. 

Ah! oft hath Sorrow brought that pain to me: 

And as once more I bear it in my heart 

Sad memories return ; the dead I see, 

And those I love from whom I still must part. 

But now I turn to Sorrow and I say, 

"Parting and Death unclasp the hands that cling. 

But cannot take the soul from soul away, 

Nor break the love that soul to soul we bring." 

And Sorrow, strange with beauty, answers me, 

"That I might teach thee this, I came to thee.' 



99 



[87] 



LXXVIII 

Let not the lover think that he alone 
Is moved to celebrate his maiden's praise; 
A brother, too, his sister's worth may own, 
And from his heart a loving song may raise. 
A brother, too, may mourn when she is dead 
Who all the way his comrade dear had been; 
Though snow may drift where now her lowly bed, 
In thought she still companions him unseen. 
In the familiar haunts his eyes will miss 
Her who long absent still seems ever near; 
No sound returns to fill the emptiness, 
Yet still he waits her voice again to hear. 
With all who love a sister thus have I 
In my own yearning love a fellow tie. 



[88] 



LXXIX 

If one in folly should forsake the light 
And shut himself away in darkened halls, 
Where seated in the gloom he fed his sight 
On naught save pictures painted on the walls, — 
Denied activity, his strength would fail; 
Effort would weary him; shut from the sun 
His eyes would be enfeebled; wan and pale. 
What he most needed, that he most would shun. 
So should I be if I from love should turn, 
To dwell alone with dreams and fantasies. 
Life is in change; through service I must earn 
New treasures for my hall of memories. 
Love is the light of life; and while I live 
I must receive its beams and I must give. 



[89] 



LXXX 

Afar thy grave and seldom may my feet 

That holy pilgrimage achieve for me, 

When I should bear as offering the sweet 

Blossoms, that ever gave delight to thee. 

Or if I were to bring them even now. 

Laying my wreath upon the grassy mound. 

What joy in such a gift still findest thou 

That they should fade and wither on the ground? 

But there are fadeless blooms, of brighter cheer. 

With more of power my longing to relieve; 

To cherish these, which were to thee most dear. 

Is better than in loneliness to grieve. 

The children's joy shall be the offering 

Which, as a pilgrim, unto thee I bring. 



[90] 



LXXXI 

When ceaseless clamor doth assail mine ear, 
While I the poet's subtle verse would thread 
And in my soul its matchless music hear, 
And little vantage gains my weary head ; 
Or when some glimpse of beauteous truth I catch. 
And breathless look a vision rare to see, 
And hear the harsh voice of the lifted latch. 
As one comes in to chat awhile with me, — 
Then do I say, "What matters? small the loss; 
Let life be full of cheerful stir and noise; 
The poet's brightest dream is but as dross. 
Compared with living gold of girls and boys; 
And oh, no jarring sound through life is heard 
Like echo of unkind, impatient word!" 



[91] 



LXXXII 

Wert thou to come anhungered to my door, 
Well dost thou know how happy I should be 
To spread upon the board my garnered store 
And share the gifts of Mother Earth with thee. 
Yet thou art hungry now, perchance, for love. 
let me never fail that need to meet! 
And that a good provider I may prove, 
"I love thee," and "I love thee," I repeat. 
And may I gain such skill in true love's art 
As to prepare, through circle of thy days, 
Ever new viands for thy hungry heart. 
And say, "I love thee," in a thousand ways. 
From my own hunger do I know thy need. 
And I thy heart with daily love would feed. 



[92] 



LXXXIII 

love me not for any worth in me, 

Who would myself for little worth forget; 

But let the Bond of our affection be 

That with a common love our hearts are set 

Upon eternal good. Thus shall we kneel 

At Beauty's feet, attuned heart to heart 

Since both hearts tuned to hers; and ever feel 

As worshippers of Truth ties none can part: 

Thus shall stern moods of action weld our love; 

For comrades we, loyal in press of strife 

To one same banner that doth forward move 

Winning for man a more abundant life. 

Though Death shall smite with his destroying hand, 

Unmoved, eternal, will our friendship stand. 



[93] 



LXXXIV 

Father, sorrowful I come to Thee 

With mission ill fulfilled: for Thou didst give 
A precious balm of healing power to me, 
Saying, "Go soothe my child, I will she live. 

1 need the service of her loying heart; 
Go, comfort her, and tell her of my love; 
And say that there is waiting, set apart 
Until she make it hers, a place above 

Her fondest dream." Father, I went, and gave 

Not balm, but bitter bruise; and now her pain 

Is from the hurt I brought. send and save! 

I cannot ask that I may go again. 

But let the coals upon thine altar bum 

My callous hand till tenderness return. 



[94] 



LXXXV 

How oft my reason, as with dam and gate, 

Holds back my love, as 't were a mighty flood. 

Which, should it burst these bounds, would devastate 

The very heart for whom I wish all good. 

But Friendship hath his sluiceway opened wide. 

Through which a stream of love shall ever flow 

To the fair garden he hath set beside 

These waters in that other heart. There grow 

Full many a pleasant fruit and fragrant flower 

And herb for healing, which do often bring 

My friend thereto to spend a happy hour 

And listen to the water murmuring. 

And thus my reason, holding back my love, 

A friend to my friend and to me doth prove. 



[95] 



LXXXVI 

Within the heaven of thy soul, where Love 
Hath set thy friends like stars, I cannot be 
A watched-for golden planet that doth move 
In happy orbit ever near to thee; 
Nor in thy constellations is it mine 
To seem to thy fair eyes a splendid star; 
In cold and empty North I needs must shine, 
Forever unto thee but faint and far. 
Yet hath Love left me of his tokens, one: 
Thy path I '11 follow with a constant ray, 
True as the pole-star until life is done 
And love shall dawn for thee in perfect day; 
True as the pole-star till the morning light 
Shall summon home the watchers of the night. 



[96] 



LXXXVII 

My path of striving but to failure led ; 
And resting now I sit beside the way, 
The sunlight from my vale of promise fled, 
And o'er the silent marsh a mist of gray. 
Yet there are blossoms here about my feet, 
Which I will pluck and bring in love to thee ; 
Thy pleasure when thine eyes my flowers meet. 
Reward of all my weary toil will be. 
For these the saving touch of Beauty show: 
Bred by the tearful mist and yielding ground. 
Within this place of failure here they grow. 
And here by wanderers they oft are found, — 
By those who learn in their own deep distress 
The worth of love and human tenderness. 



[97] 



LXXXVIII 

Swift fly the hours, and soon the seaward breeze 
Will waft thee from mine island, far away: 
And when in days to come the thought of these 
Now past shall rise, no need that thou shouldst say, 
"Thus did he look, and such his speech to me"; 
For time will bring thee wiser words than mine, 
And fairer faces thou wilt often see. 
Smiling to meet the beauty found in thine. 
But may'st thou say, "There did the star of love 
With strange new splendor greet mine upward gaze; 
As though it came through the calm heaven above, 
Nearer to earth, that with its guiding rays 
It might be evermore a closer friend. 
And clearer light upon my pathway send." 



[98] 



LXXXIX 

Forget thee? Nay! Bond between thee and me, 
The mighty earth that bears us on her breast, 
And the fair moon, that sways the tossing sea 
And watches o'er thee as thou takest rest; 
The wind that stirs the locks upon thy brow 
Will swiftly fly to breathe thy name to me ; 
And in the old familiar places thou — 
Unseen to other eyes; mine eyes will see. 
The star of love will send that clearer light 
My soul to cheer, my pathway to make plain. 
It is thy spirit makes the star more bright. 
And in its beauty I find thee again. 
Though from me thou must go so far away, 
Here in my soul forever thou wilt stay. 



[99] 



xc 

Sweet garden place of friendship where my soul 
Found daily new profusion of delight, 
A cruel frost thy wondrous beauty stole 
And now thou art for me a sorry sight. 
The countless leaves that danced so readily 
For every frolic wind that passed them by, 
Now heralds of the snows of death I see, 
And from their shriveled forms there comes a sigh : 
The flowers, that made this place with color gay, 
And each a marvel wrought by hand of Love, 
Are gone. Yet as I grieve thy state to-day. 
Not without comfort doth my sorrow prove. 
To wind and snow thy transient bloom I give; 
Enough that through all change the seed will live. 



[100] 



XCI 

poesy, thou art a path for me 
Through the dark forest tangle of my days; 
Thou art a stream and I am borne by thee, 
Thy life my pain of loneliness allays; 
Thou art a hidden cleft deep in the earth. 
Through which the waters of my love are led 
In yearning hope that they may yet find birtli 
And some far vale may yet by them be fed. 
Why must my path the lonely forest keep? 
Why winds my stream through endless solitude? 
Why must my love be ever buried deep 
And my own heart its tenderness seclude? 
Nature hath willed it thus ; yet kind was she 
Giving thy way for an escape, to me. 



[101] 



XCII 

Weak and alone, to no one can I turn; 
And how through darkness can I find my way? 
love, do thou within my spirit burn; 
Show me the path, for without thee I stray. 
And grant that I may leave a beacon here. 
To which could look e'en but a single friend. 
That after I am gone thy ray of cheer 
When dark his night it still to him might send. 
Thou only art an everlasting flame; 
Words without love in nothing can avail; 
Without thee, whatsoe'er my beacon's fame, 
A friend watching at nightfall it would fail. 
let me not, thinking of how I write, 
Polish my lantern and neglect the light! 



[102] 



XCIII 

A bruised, an almost broken reed was I; 
Yet in my sleep there came to me a dream. 
That one of gracious look was walking by. 
Who plucked me from the margin of the stream. 
Then the dream changed : for now methought I stood 
With ranks of organ pipes; and suddenly 
I trembled, and 'mid all that brotherhood 
Of sounding voices came a note from me. 
Still am I bruised, yet would I make no plaint; 
But when the wind is blowing o'er the shore. 
And the reeds tremble, though my voice is faint, 
I ever strive to sound that note once more. 
And here I watch till he shall come, some day. 
Who in my dream took me with him away. 



[103] 



, XCIV 

wouldst thou bless thy loved ones with a prayer 

Whose power should not depart when thou art dead? 

And wouldst in spirit guard them everywhere 

When thy poor body hath been buried? 

Then make thy life that prayer, that they may see 

How thou art victor o'er surrounding foes; 

How, scattered by thy strength, temptations flee; 

How proof thy patience 'mid a press of woes. 

Thus thou a champion by them wilt stand, 

Valiant beside them in their time of need; 

An angel thou wilt be in guardian band. 

Whose love they feel and to whose words they heed. 

For naught the power of such a prayer can break, 

Or can avail thy place from thee to take. 



[104] 



xcv 

ye my friends, to whom in heart I turn 
As tree, to the sustaining earth and air, 
'T is not forgetfulness that ye discern 
When messages from me are brief and rare. 
If one who loves another well should leave 
The path between less trod, that he might make 
A gift the meanwhile, would that other grieve, 
Knowing that every touch was for his sake? 
So can ye know that as alone I strive 
To fashion for my dreams a lasting home, 
'T is that when I am gone they still may live. 
To give you greeting when to them ye come, 
Saying, "He wrought that we abiding here 
Might keep for you the hearth fire's olden cheer." 



[105] 



XCVI 

realm of home and love, exiled from thee 

1 ever mourn as for my native land; 
Yet have I come in mine adversity, 

A traveler, to many a pleasant strand: 
Where I have made me friends of earth, and fire, 
Of air, and water, and earth's creature kind; 
And oft such friends have granted my desire 
That hands embody children for my mind. 
A craftsman free from bondage, have I wrought. 
With Truth and Beauty watching at my side ; 
I die, but here created lives my thought. 
Which will for many a year with men abide. 
In this, relenting fate my lot did bless. 
Granting that I in work find happiness. 



[106] 



XCVII 

If skilful in the painter's art were I, 
Upon my workshop wall I would portray 
A room whose window faced the western sky 
Where lingered still the fading light of day. 
Within, all lost in gloom, save what revealed 
Of wall and tools, by the departing rays ; 
Beside the window, — for the most concealed, — 
A seated figure with a half seen face, — 
The Master, resting from his day of toil 
And looking to the sky of Nazareth. 
Ah, faint at times with my own day's turmoil. 
To me this picture would be like a breath 
Of that refreshing evening air which blew 
From off those hillsides, where the lilies grew. 



[107] 



XCVIIl 

Into a town Love came in regal state, 
And all did gather in the market place; 
With that expectant throng I too did wait, 
That as he passed I might behold Love's grace. 
Then rose discussion as to what was writ 
For motto on the scroll his banner bore: 
Most held naught but, "I conquer," would be fit 
For one whom all mankind did thus adore. 
Soon surged advancing shout of glad acclaim; 
A thousand hands strewed roses in the way; 
Into that host of loyal hearts Love came 
Like to the glorious sun at break of day. 
And when his banner bright I might observe, 
I read the motto writ thereon, "I serve." 



[108] 



XCIX 

By springs of life and joy long have I stood, 
With my companions calling passers-by 
That here they seek the waters which are good; 
And this hath ever been to them my cry: — 
"0 ye who rest awhile within this grove, 
Forspent with heat and labor of the day. 
And drink these springs of life set free by love, 
Fill here your cups ere yet ye go away. 
This water's virtue that who drinks forgets 
In present joys the sorrows of his heart: 
Nor doth the sweet refreshment bring regrets; 
Who quaffs, richer and stronger will depart; 
And as he goes he in his heart will find 
More love for hoping, striving, human kind." 



[109] 



The words of love which now I write to thee 

Have caught their flame from the still glowing past; 

And they in turn but embers soon will be, 

Fading when we to ashes fall at last. 

Yet still 'mid fagots new the fire will burn ; 

New generations after us will come ; 

And from our love the children theirs will learn, 

And still will live the cheer and warmth of home. 

Then that immortal be the flame we feed, 

While still 't is ours let it mount clear and high; 

Nor let us mourn that others soon succeed 

To our estate and we in ashes lie. 

What we received, to them we gladly give. 

Content if thus the fire forever live. 



[110] 



SONNETS 
PART IV 



CI 

Can the disciple in his journeying 

Forget the master from whose lips he heard 

Those truths which now 't is his own life to bring 

To gathered folk, who listen to his word? 

Or will the son not keep in loving mind 

His father, who hath vanished from the day, 

But whose blest influence he still doth find 

Beside him at each turn upon his way? 

Then doubly must tliy memory be dear, 

Father, who in my life both didst prove; 

Thee as a master still shall I revere. 

Thee as a father shall I ever love. 

And gladly do I own these thoughts of mine 

To be but the disciple's gain from thine. 



[113] 



CII 

As the surveyor, on an island beach, 

Taking his angles from a measured base. 

On map of mainland far beyond his reach 

The jutting cape and mountain range can place, 

So doth the soul of man, standing where break 

On shore of life the waves of mystery. 

Its angles from its base of knowledge take, 

Mapping a land which it can dimly see. 

Some say those snowy mountains are but cloud; 

Yet yearning faith will ever hold that there, 

Though drifting mist our mortal sight doth shroud. 

Lies for the soul its native country fair. 

And that when o'er the water we have come 

We there shall find an everlasting home. 



[114] 



cm 

If my past influence on man, shall live, 

But death extinguish all the rest of me, 

Then 't is my fellows who my judgment give. 

And from their verdict no appeal can be. 

Charged with some heinous crime, though innocent, 

Unable from these toils my feet to clear, 

I must be to the cruel gallows sent. 

While all the world looks on with scom and fear. 

Then forth into the future I shall go 

Disowned by former friends, despised by all, 

The story of my life but used to show 

How from his innocence a man may fall. 

If such could be my fate without redress. 

Then truth and justice are but emptiness. 



[115] 



CIV 

An outcast from the good, this would not be 

The bitterest portion of an unjust fate, 

But to live on to all posterity. 

Teaching the very thing I piost do hate. 

To bear man's scorn and fear might e'en be well 

Were many thus backward from evil driven; 

A warning sign-post on the road to Hell 

Still gives a friendly aid to hosts of Heaven. 

But to be forced, despite desert and will, 

As ally, to the enemy to go, 

An influence seductive unto ill. 

That were indeed injustice ; and to know 

That I through others' error thus must live. 

The cup of wormwood at my death would give. 



[116] 



cv 

From hand of Sleep how gladly do I take 

The poppy wreathed cup; nor would I fear, 

Knowing that I should never more awake 

When it was Death, not gentle Sleep, stood near. 

The lethal draught, and then oblivion: 

What is in this more than in sleep to dread? 

Nay, if from stress and strife forever gone, 

Then might I sometimes wish that I were dead. 

If Death ends all then Death is friend to me, 

For Life brings sorrows, which at death would cease; 

Then would Life seem the tyrant enemy. 

From whose dominion Death would give release. 

But howsoever much of stress and strife, 

Ne'er can I hold me enemy to Life. 



[117] 



CVI 

That life brings struggle ne'er will I complain, 

For deep my faith that vantage lies therein; 

Will loyal soldier grudge the strife and pain 

If though he falls his cause new ground shall win? 

But if there is no cause, no gain, no loss, — 

Life the mere tossing of a restless sea, — 

Then why should one endure the scourge and cross. 

When love is vain and hope a mockery? 

Then will I turn my back at duty's call. 

And take me self-indulgence for my friend; 

If in my cup I find the drop of gall. 

Death will I seek that he my sorrows end. 

For why should I, for naught, draw painful breath 

When I can find oblivion in death? 



[118] 



evil 

If death ends all, and all that I have wrought 
Through life-long labor in the realms of mind 
Shall with the brain's decay become as naught, 
Mere writing of a finger on the wind. 
Then say not to me that the race will live. 
And that my children's children good may see. 
Or that to man my influence I give 
To win some good for far posterity. 
If death ends all, in time the race will die; 
For death of race and planet comes amain: 
When the last man a lifeless clod shall lie. 
That human race hath been, what were the gain? 
If death ends all, then little care I give 
That through posterity the race should live. 



[119] 



CVIII 

Would tearful love recall the labored breath 
When, hopeless suffering over, life is gone? 
And if I would not wrest such prey from Death, 
Why should I will that children should be bom? 
Whate'er their joys, comes Pain with knotted scourge. 
Who ne'er will cease pursuit till Death shall slay. 
Then might I yield indeed to passion's urge 
But let no child of mine see light of day. 
For it were selfishness myself to please 
With their uncertain beauty, which I crave; 
And lavish must I spend treasure and ease 
If I this sorrow-mingled joy would have. 
So say I for myself and all mankind 
If blow of Death annihilates the mind. 



[120] 



CIX 

Perchance I do myself a wrong to say 

That I would paths of self-indulgence choose 

If rainbow bridges falling to decay 

My faith in higher destiny I lose. 

For strong the wholesome instincts that survive 

From time ere man of tree of knowledge ate, — 

The joy in life, the care that others live. 

And that in love his kind he propagate. 

But though I take me Beauty for my friend. 

On footprints left by Faith my eyes be bent, 

Soon would each upland path find hopeless end. 

And all my songs be mingled with lament; 

Till I should reach a barren shore alone 

Where dreary mists enshroud and winds make moan. 



[121] 



ex 

Wlien I behold how great is Nature's thrift, — 

That though she seem to waste with lavish hand, 

*T is but that to new use her store she shift, 

And ne'er a mote escapes from her command; 

And though she seem to heave with tug and strain, 

V/hen one might say for naught the labor spent, 

Her strength put forth is ever hers again, 

Nor to no purpose is her finger bent, — 

When this I see and in myself I find 

Her work unto its present highest brought. 

The wondrous fabric of a human mind. 

To fashion which for ages she hath wrought, 

How can I think that aught will yet be lost 

Of that which such a one so much hath cost. 



[122] 



CXI 

No children heirs to my life will be born, 
That I should say, "In them I shall survive." 
If this my all of hope v/ell might I mourn. 
And useless would it seem that I should live. 
Nor can I in my trade with friends impart, 
As daily in the market place I wait. 
The title to these riches of my heart, 
Which do but more and more accumulate. 
Must moth and rust and mildew be my heirs, 
My joy in gathered store of beauty vain? 
And truths be lost, mined by a thousand cares 
And melted in the furnace heat of pain? 
Nay! I shall sail when the night wind shall rise 
To a far country with my merchandise. 



[123] 



CXIl 

Far from my wish to speak reproachfully 
Of those who march in noble Science' train; 
For through their warfare there hath come to me 
More than my pen can tell of priceless gain. 
Nor in my count do I chief value set 
On creature comforts found on every hand; 
In realm of spirit is my greatest debt, 
For many an error driven from the land, 
And many a road by patient labor hewed 
Which he who follows may a sumrriit reach 
Whence can the sea of mystery be viewed 
As ne'er it could of old from the low beach ; 
And often, seated on such height, I say, 
"0 Poesy, much hast thou to repay." 



[124] 



CXIII 

My body is a wondrous instrument, 

Of untold cost, nor can I know the care 

Which that skilled master-workman. Life, hath spent 

To fashion it and keep it in repair. 

No need to ask its use; a babe can see 

The use for which his body was designed, 

And from the world about continually 

He forms the unseen fabric of his mind. 

Within that universe his mother's face 

Is the first heaven that o'er him smiling bends; 

In time the golden sun assumes its place. 

And thus from day to day his world extends. 

And I, like him, do still from day to day 

Within my spirit store the world away. 



[125] 



CXIV 

My thoughts are like the bees, that from their home 

Are ever flying forth on roving wing; 

My memory is like the honey-comb, 

To which my thoughts their gathered sweets do bring. 

Where'er they fly, about life's pleasant field. 

Fresh beauties, like nev/ opened flowers, they find; 

And every beauty wholesome store doth yield, 

Which can enrich the chambers of my mind. 

Fly, busy thoughts, nor let your labor cease; 

Now o'er this field doth Life his summer send ; 

The number of your days doth fast increase, 

And warns you that of summer comes an end; 

And in the winter-time your food will be 

What now you store away in memory. 



[126] 



cxv 

Unseen this treasure yet of priceless worth, 
And safe from harm in Heaven of the mind ; 
No need to fear destroying rust or moth 
Nor will the hand of robber ever find. 
That man is small, what doth it signify? 
A fleeting glance, into his mind he takes 
A thousand glories of the earth and sky 
When o'er the mountain tops the sunrise breaks. 
Mere lifeless mass in dreamless sleep is bound: 
The moth floating from flovfer to flower at night 
Hath more of consciousness than can be found 
In all the moon that floods the world with light: 
The universe with myriad chanting spheres, 
Save in a mind, that music never hears. 



[127] 



CXVI 

When scenes of former years about me lie, 

Paths where my feet at midnight were at home 

Seem half familiar, and half stranger I 

To few remaining former neighbors come. 

More dear to me the memories I keep 

Than are these things themselves whence memory 

grew; 
Past joys bring smiles, past sorrows I could weep, 
But what has this place now with me to do? 
Thus have the years changed both the place and me; 
And change, the law of all the world, I find : 
The real becomes past unreality, 
Kept only in the growing realms of mind ; 
But in those realms all ages past endure. 
Forever from the power of change secure. 



[128] 



CXVII 

The clock which told the hours ere I was born, 

And which will mark the one when I shall die. 

Comforts me when, yearning for life, I mourn 

That I ere long must lay my body by. 

"Remove my pendulum," it saith to me, 

"My hands no more will show the time o' day; 

Yet that removed part where'er it be 

Will, as before, laws of its life obey. 

So will thy body, with thy spirit flown. 

As earth returned to earth for ay remain; 

But that removed self in realms unknown 

Will at the touch of life awake again." 

And thus do I from Time's own servant hear 

That which would take from troubled heart its fear. 



[129] 



CXVIII 

The trembling needle, pointing to the pole, 
A universal influence reveals; 
The plummet, yielding to the earth's control. 
The pull of all the mighty- planet feels. 
So is the mind of man by forces swayed 
Whose source and import are alike unknown. 
But present everywhere are they obeyed, 
And by man's nature is their nature shown. 
Then do I look for change of death to prove 
No severance of mind from vaster mind. 
But that in realms of beauty and of love 
I an eternity of joy shall find. 
For while that vaster spirit shall endure 
Mine, ever linked therewith, remains secure. 



[130] 



CXIX 

"Ye must be bom again." I had not learned 

Of Holy Grail its inmost mystery, 

If my unblinded eyes had not discerned 

Through veil of flesh the spirit's destiny. 

From realms of time and space of present earth, 

To which my mortal body links it now. 

My spirit draws its life for higher birth, 

As in its mother's womb a child doth grow. 

Nor know I more than doth that little one 

Of what in the beyond is waiting me ; 

Few and faint intimations now forerun 

Of powers that will then developed be. 

Enough the faith that past the dreaded gate 

For my freed soul a fuller life doth wait. 



[131] 



cxx 

Ruler of dreams, thou Pluto of my sleep, 
Unto whose shadowy realm nightly I go, 
I will thy power in due remembrance keep, 
For thou canst work me weal or work me woe. 
All that I store away in memory 
Is but my tribute which I bring to thee; 
Thou hast the keys to this, my treasury. 
And strict art thou in thine account with me. 
From beauty that I store thou f ashionest 
Elysian fields for me, surpassing fair; 
The love I store appears at thy behest 
In love of gentle friends about me there. 
Thee I revere, and deep my care to bring 
Beauty and love for this thy fashioning. 



[132] 



CXXI 

The outer world no more doth satisfy 
Than its reflection kept within my mind; 
Nor this my body when awake do I 
Than my dream body better servant find. 
Then why should I lament that comes a day 
When visions of the outer world are o'er, 
And outer body yielded to decay 
Will render service to my soul no more? 
My stored universe I still shall keep 
And I therein, a spirit free, shall rove; 
Absence of earthly friends no need to weep, 
For lo ! about me there are all I love ; 
Nor know I what resplendent visions new 
In that full life will burst upon my view. 



[133] 



CXXII 

Ye shadowy folk whom in my dreams I see, 

Fair is the converse I with you would know; 

For it is you who will companion me 

When I along the spirit road shall go. 

Wholly as one of you and in your power, 

If upright be my heart naught shall I dread: 

Though evil eyes 'mid friendly ranks may lower, 

By Love himself will I be safely led. 

But oh! how shrink I back in dire dismay 

To think what at the end my fate might prove 

If with an evil heart I take my way 

And fiends should be my guides in place of Love, 

And my sweet angels, who my plight would mourn. 

In conflict for my soul be overborne. 



[134] 



CXXIII 

I dreamed I saw Osiris on his throne 

Judging the dead. Then did my soul draw near, 

That questioning for deeds in body done, 

Of the departed spirits, I might hear. 

And much I wondered how the god would reach, 

By skilful words to trembling souls addressed, 

The guarded inmost citadel of each. 

To judge whether by good or bad possessed. 

There came a spirit and 'mid silence stood 

Before the throne. One look the great god cast: 

As graved on stone the evil and the good 

Of all his life, before that spirit passed. 

Then from the god came forth the voice of dread : 

"On earth, soul, how didst thou love?" he said. 



[135] 



CXXIV 

If naught of spirit's presence I had seen 

Save only in the lives of my own kind, 

More narrow than the savage I had been, 

Made, by my brighter light of learning, blind. 

To humble past a boundless debt I owe. 

For what through Nature's choice I do inherit; 

And still from kindred veins doth life blood flow 

In sacrifice that I upbuild my spirit. 

Then let my heart be filled with gratitude: 

And richer is my life, deeper my joy. 

For all earth's creatures, which with life endued 

In like upbuilding do their powers employ. 

Creative Love fashioned both them and me. 

Nor lost will e'en the humblest spirit be. 



[136] 



cxxv 

If not the lightning of the tiger's leap, 
And all that rends the limb and chokes the breath, 
Grim Famine the broad field of Life would reap. 
And naught escape the harvest-home of Death. 
For all that the green leaves gained from the sun 
The swiftly breeding mouths would soon devour; 
Regretful Life would find his work was done 
If he to check such breeding had no power. 
Then will I question not Creative Love 
Why form both tiger and the gentle doe, 
When evidence apparent which doth prove 
That from such conflict greater good doth flow. 
Thus doth that spirit through which all do breed 
Provide that none allotted bounds exceed. 



[137] 



CXXVI 

Thou feared and hated bearer of the scourge, 
Pain, from whose presence mortals ever flee, 
Still do thy stinging blows the laggards urge. 
And woe to those who stumble before thee. 
Much have I borne at thy remorseless hand, 
And from the hissing lash ever I fly; 
Yet I enough thine office understand, 
That no reproach is mingled with my cry. 
Servant to Life art thou, and friend to man; 
Away from Death and Danger thou dost drive; 
Attendant angel, thou, since life began. 
Safety and growth, knowledge and power, to give. 
Pleasure, thy comrade: though I fear thy blow, 
To thee as much as unto him, I owe. 



[138] 



CXXVII 

Will hardy manhood shun the flying spray 

When progress turns the prow against the wind? 

Will love put from its lips the cup away, 

Its thought how safety from the cross to find? 

Nay, but the very brute its life blood gives 

The herd to guard, the nestlings to protect; 

Most struggle comes to man, who most achieves; 

And thorns, the chosen crown of Love's elect. 

Thus I perceive that oft 't is Duty's will 

One stay from flight and take the blows of Pain, 

That he a needed office may fulfil. 

Winning for self and others higher gain. 

Remorseless falls the lash, but blest is he 

Whose soul is from the scourge of conscience free. 



[139] 



CXXVIII 

The harpstring doth its voice of sweetness owe 

To stress engendered at opposed ends; 

Ere forth the whistling arrow flies, the bow 

In sternest conflict with the bowstring bends. 

From struggle, spring thought and abounding life; 

While relaxation breedeth sleep and death : 

And harmony no more than ordered strife 

To music of the spheres contributeth. 

Then that I find Evil doth Good oppose 

I make no cause why I my faith should lose; 

For I can see that therefrom vantage grows; — 

My care the side of righteousness to choose. 

Be strong, my soul, the battle ne'er bewail; 

Heed thou that Life and Love thou dost not fail. 



[140] 



CXXIX 

Darkness dwells not with light, nor cold with heat; 
To each do we assign a separate realm; 
But in eternal conflict do they meet, 
Striving each other's might to overwhelm. 
No more, doth love make its abode with hate, 
Nor truth with falsehood ; these are ever foes. 
Whose regions each from each we separate, 
And in eternal strife their armies close. 
Thus, everywhere, opposed realms I see. 
When my freed soul seeks final dwelling place. 
To realms of love and truth may my way be. 
And with Creative Love may I find grace. 
Whate'er for me the change of death may prove. 
My only prayer, that I be kept by Love. 



[141] 



cxxx 

Not with cold glance of an unkindred eye 
The strangers of the daily throng I see; 
In each the gateway to a soul is nigh, 
A universe of spirit joined to me. 
More than mere earthly brother count I one 
Whose heart unto the laws of love is true ; 
In my poor life what never could be done 
I see love in a thousand others do. 
Strong skilful hands, ye execute my will, 
And I the gain of your achievement share; 
Fathers, for me your children's mouths ye fill; 
And my delight, a mother's watchful care. 
And more and more by life have I been shown 
That in the joy of such I find mine own. 



[142] 



CXXXI 

Unchanging are the treasures of my mind; 
My childhood's fifes heard upon gala day, 
Still borne by winds of memory I find, 
Though half a life since then has passed away. 
And yet Mutation rules my treasury: 
A printer, all my store for type he seizes. 
And paying little heed to word from me 
He prints my book of fancy as he pleases : 
Or now, a potter, these for clay he throws, 
Fashioning dreams on his revolving wheel; 
Now from the mass a form of beauty grows, 
Again a mass, new beauty to reveal. 
Thus in my mind I find condition strange. 
Unchanging forms the food for constant change. 



[143] 



CXXXII 

If I be kept within a vaster mind 
As in my mind is kept the fragile rose, 
Then this fair flower a comforter I find, 
That doth to me a mystery disclose. 
Immortal in my soul, itself, it lives. 
E'en as I saw it on its bended spray; 
Yet more than memory my spirit gives. 
It blends it in the visions of to-day. 
Thus in that vaster mind would I remain. 
Myself forever, yet of all, a part. 
To come to thirsty fields in cooling rain. 
To man, in father love within his heart. 
Ah, thou sweet flower, contented will I be 
If such a life as this is waiting me! 



[144] 



CXXXIII 

When I bethink me how alone am I 

Without the wife and child for whom I yearn, 

And that I shall not see them standing by 

When at the last to bid farewell I turn, 

Then in my sorrow do I seem to feel 

The comfort of a gracious presence near, 

A gentle touch that would my sorrow heal ; 

And full of courage are the words I hear. 

"All thou hast sought in me thou yet shalt find; 

Severed our streams, but yonder is the sea; 

Though Life to thine a rock bound vale assigned, 

The Infinite awaits, our home to be ; 

The love in us came from the eternal main. 

And love to boundless Love returns again." 



[145] 



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